


Got a Thing for You

by JasnNCarly



Series: Jon Moxley (Dean Ambrose) & You [20]
Category: Professional Wrestling, WWE, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: F/M, One Shot, Tumblr, greygirlmoxley, wwe imagine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-19 08:43:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19353484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JasnNCarly/pseuds/JasnNCarly
Summary: Slightly alternative universe one shot. You are not very liked, except by bad boy Jon Moxley. You have no idea what to do about it, but luckily he knows exactly what to do.





	Got a Thing for You

They can’t stop giving you shit; you thought graduation would change their treatment of you. It’s changed nothing. You’re still not perfect enough for their pretty perfect club, and your quiet demeanor makes you an easy target. Working at your father’s garage, trying to pay for college, it felt like that got trouble just to come give you shit. Patting your head, using a manly name to jokingly replace yours, you are surprised your consistent pinching of your lips hasn’t permanently sealed your mouth close.

You allow them to give you shit, not trying to kill your father’s business or your own. Bills had to be paid and, if you had dealt with it in high school, you could definitely deal with it now. Locking up the shop for the night, you took off your baseball cap and frowned at your greasy hands. Thank God your house was empty for the weekend; you plan to use all the hot water tonight. Shaking out your hair, you toss your messenger bag in the back.

“Shit, anyone ever tell you how hot you are when you’re dirty.”

You would know that voice anywhere, and you never know how to react to it. His constant interest in you was dumbfounding; he wasn’t popular, but everyone knew not to fuck with him either. You swallow the lump in your throat and turn to face him, “Jon Moxley, we’re closed.”

Taking a drag from his cigarette, he laughs as he releases smoke, “Didn’t say I was having car trouble.” His smile widens as you cross your arms, dimples crystal clear, “Look like you had a long day.”

“Could say that. A slew of assholes had car issues today.” Rubbing your hands on your coveralls, you try not to show him how nervous you are though he’s only a couple steps from you, “Anyway, I gotta get home so…”

“Perfect,” He throws his hands up as his foot stomps out his cigarette butt, “I was looking for something to do. Some bartender got handsy after I tried to show him an alternative form of ID.”

“We’re nineteen. Can’t drink yet.”

“Don’t be a girl scout. It’s not like you haven’t drunk before.”

You hadn’t, but you weren’t about to tell him that.

He pulls a flask from his leather jacket pocket, “You wanna have some fun?”

——————————-

You half wondered what he was doing downstairs, waiting for you to get showered and changed. Why had you agreed to let him come into the house? Maybe it was just that he was fucking gorgeous, and you lacked a spine. Your wardrobe is simple, blacks/whites/tans. Nothing of lace or bows. Did you forget you were a girl? Mad at yourself, you put on some cotton, black underwear; you hop into a pair faded blue jeans and pull on a tank top. Looking into your vanity mirror, you note how obvious your bra is and slip a black tank top over the white one.

You’re rough when you brush your hair out; putting the brush down, you try to fluff out your hair and think that there is really nothing you can do to feel attractive at this point. Applying some light foundation and bubblegum chapstick, you figure this is the best you can do and head downstairs.

You cringe when you see him eye your father’s wall of pictures, all dedicated to his daughter in her most awkward teen years. Clearing your throat, you hear him laugh, “Kinda a tomboy, huh?”

“Could say that. My dad still refuses to recognize I have boobs.”

Jon turns with a half smirk, looking you up and down, “The rest of the world doesn’t.”

His words make you think things you’re not used to; of course, you were a recluse most of the time, much to your father’s delight. You cross the threshold into the living room as he falls into a seat on the couch.

“Where is daddy, anyway?”

“He’s out of town, visiting my uncle. Long story short, uncle needed some brother time.” Your explanation is quick, standoffish as you watch him take off his jacket to get more comfortable, “It’s really boring here. You sure you can’t find a better friend to visit.”

“Are you acknowledging we’re friends now?” Jon retrieves his flask, taking a huge swig and patting the cushion next to himself, “Want some?”

You reluctantly take a seat on the opposite end of the couch, extending your hand, “What is it?”

“Whiskey.” His announcement comes a little late as you’ve already taken a large gulp; his laughter causes the burn in your throat to intensify, “You all right there?”

You hold the back of your hand to your mouth, nodding and extending it back to him.

“Don’t worry, you’ll feel better in a second.” Jon tosses back another drink as you try to keep yours down.

Your muscles start to feel warm and relaxed, but you decide not to share this with him.

“I always wondered why you let those people talk shit.” Jon glances at the wall again, “I get it now.”

You run a hand through your hair, pushing some of it behind your shoulder, “Get what?”

“Daddy’s little girl lives in a bubble.” Jon’s eyes drift to yours, looking almost clear in the moonlit room, “Comfortable there?”

Your heart is in your throat, pounding and echoing in your ears, “Fuck you, Mox.”

“I know you think that’s gonna piss me off.” Jon gets up, closing the distance between you as he sits again, “Honestly, it turns me on.”

You reach for the flask again, taking a gulp and choking it down. His hands begin to play with your wet hair, his body leaning towards yours, and you have no clue how to react.

“If I ask you a question, you gonna kick me out?”

“You’d actually listen to me.” You drink again, getting a little braver, “What’s the question?”

He sniffs your fruity scented locks, husky voice in your ear, “You still a virgin?”

What the fuck? Did he have to ask you that! Subconsciously, you press your thighs together.

Jon lets out a heavy breath, “You are, aren’t you?”

Now, you wish you had drunk the whole flask. Still, you rest your chin on your shoulder and look into his eyes, “That’s none of your business.”

“So, you saving it for some kind of dream man? Maybe your wedding night?”

Honestly, you had never thought about it. Since no one really showed interest, you had not been confronted with a lot of desire. Usually, you felt pretty damn resistible.

Jon combs his fingers through the length of your hair, “You’re not even a little curious?”

“Not even a little.” You lie, hoping it will save you. Anything to put some distance between you again, “Maybe you should go, Mox.”

“It’s bugging you, huh?” Jon’s hand trails down your back, his fingers slipping under the fabric of your tank tops; when his nails run along your skin, you gasp a little and try to speak. You feel him smile against your skin, lips brushing your cheek, “That I’m here.” His lips kiss near your ear, causing heat to run throughout your body, worsening at his next words, “and I want you.”

You stand up with what little strength you have, trying to even your breathing out, and look down at his smile, unable to speak.

Following suit, he stands and his hands grab you by the back of the neck, pulling you into a passionate kiss; instinctively, you respond but wonder if your inexperience is showing. He holds you tight, backing you out of the room until you feel your heels touch the bottom of the steps. You moan, uncertain and push him back; his eyes are on fire with lust, and it is the first time anyone has seen you that way. The depths of his eyes tell you he would do any and everything to you if you let him.

He is confused, breathing so heavily it brushes your chest and throat, “You still want me to go?”

“Is it stupid if I admit I don’t know what I want or what I’m doing?” You blurt it out before it goes through any sort of filter, and you blush in embarrassment, “I—I….”

Jon licks his lips, taking one of your hands in his and intertwining your fingers, “Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.”

You can’t help but smile as he begins to back upstairs, slightly dancing as he does so; you don’t resist, you follow. Your room is pretty plain, simple reds and blacks with the whitest of walls. When he registers with your look that he’s found the right room, he shuts the door behind you. You have never felt like a stranger in your own room until now; he stands behind you, gathering your hair in his hand and twisting it around his fist. He gently pulls your head to a tilt, using his lips to bruise your neck and shoulder. His free hand lifts your shirts slightly as it slides around your waist, and you’re his.

When he moves his hand upward, cupping your breast, you let out an audible gasp again. You reach one hand up and behind you, finding his hair and beckoning his kisses to get rougher. You find some power, feeling his contact with you strengthen. Impatient, he grabs the hems of your shirt and tugs them upward; you lift your arms and allow him to take it off. Taking advantage of your giving mood, he undoes the button of your jeans and eases your zipper down. Your eyes pop open as he pushes them off your hips and down your legs. You step out of them and wait as he steps around in front of you.

Not looking into your eyes, his hands sail over your curves: from your shoulders to your hips. It’s the first time anyone has the opportunity to critique you in any sort of intimate way. You wish he would say something, but he steps back to strip down to his underwear. He embraces you and takes his time to remove your bra. You watch as the garment falls to the floor, realizing you only really have one last line of defense. You hug yourself for a moment, asking, “Do you…” you can’t seem to find the words.

“I have protection.” Jon nods, circling his arms around you, whispering, “Stop getting stuck in your head.”

“I’m trying not to, but…”

“It’s an easy fix.”  

His grin slightly worries you until he lays you flat on your bed. Getting next to you, you wonder if he’s aware that you can feel him against your outer thigh. He kisses you again, using his hands to ease yours to your sides; he takes time to get you back where you were moments ago, covering you with mouth and caressing your curves.  

“You have no idea how sexy you are, do you?” His words in your ear cause yours eyes to flutter closed, “You will, by the time I’m done with you.” 

You moan when his fingers start probing your sex, and you fingers grip his bicep. His gaze twinkles at your parted lips, and his mouth is on yours when he takes things further, sliding a finger into you. It’s too much as your body starts reacting in ways you haven’t felt before. You cannot hold his gaze as the second finger enters you, and bury your face against his opposite bicep, your arms tight around him as he moves. This is what he meant by clearing your mind, you can only feel and think of him. 

“It’s okay.” He whispers as you start to move against his hand, your inner muscles grasping at his fingers’ motion, “I want you to, come on.” 

You make a sound you didn’t think you were capable of; it’s loud and it lets him know exactly how far he’s pushed you. Your body goes temporarily numb as he removes the last of your clothing and his, tossing the items aside. You watched him through exhausted eyes as he eases your thighs apart, caressing the tense muscles there a little before taking his wet fingers and stroking himself. It may be one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen as fixes the latex over his length, then sucks on the fingers which had been inside you. 

He places a hand above your shoulder, flat on the mattress to steady himself; you accept his kiss as he dips his head down to you, allowing you a small taste of your efforts together. He uses the tip of his member to tease you, his erratic breath in your ear, “Tell me when you’re ready.” 

You release a deep breath, loosely wrapping your arms around his neck and giving a slow nod. 

When he pushes into you, you can’t help but cry out. It’s an involuntary response. Jon’s lips are your neck, trying to get you to focus on something other than the somewhat painful sensation. He waits until you kiss his lips to move again. His patience is unbelievable as you work towards the other side, the switch over to his body becoming part of yours; you wanting him as deep as possible.  

“That’s it.” He growls into your ear, demanding, “Let me have it.” 

Your legs circle his waist, your ankles lock, as your hands grip his behind, squeezing and signaling that you need him even more. Jon’s no longer patient, pounding into you as you release blissful sounds into his ear. You feel your body clinch again, trying to pull him deeper, until your legs quiver. He smiles against your throat, finishing his ride, and falls onto you. 

You hold onto him, staring at the ceiling and wondering how the hell you could’ve given in so easily to him. As his lips find yours, taking time to caress each with individual care, you remember; you feel irresistible.


End file.
